


Fabracati Diem: The Bully

by Sides4Peace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eater Severus Snape, Gen, My First AO3 Post, Seduction to the Dark Side, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sides4Peace/pseuds/Sides4Peace
Summary: Snape is lost and jaded. A one shot on the inner why and how this proud Slytherin found himself bowing to a Half-Blood monster. Snape hands his soul to a mad man. Mild implied - onesided - Snape/Evans
Relationships: Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape
Kudos: 2





	Fabracati Diem: The Bully

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't the first story I ever wrote but it was the best received on ff dot net when I was under an old pseudonym. I always wanted to redux this idea and expand on it, you'll have to let me know if its worth a shot!

_ He wakes haunted with voices in his head _

_ Nobody knows but today he won't go unnoticed _

_ He can't forget, Forgive for what they said _

_ He's never been so hurt but today the screaming's over _

He was dreaming.

It was the reality though of this dream, Haunting and reoccurring, the made it so horrifying. Finding himself back in the dark of the decay of the forest as he had just a few months ago, trapped, again. 

So real was the dream he could feel the icy  sheen of sweat covering his skin, He could hear his breath rattle in his chest rough with terror. what was now a cold stone of rage burning in his stomach during his waking hours was a trap of nightmares when he fell into sleep, over and over again.

The cloying thick smell of rotting flesh, decaying wood and animal fogged his senses. He watched with sick fascination as his own pale hand snatched the twig beneath the flailing tree, saw the wood freeze as if hit with a petrifying charm. It was surreal to see through his own eyes the tunnel passage again, and even though he knew what was coming he couldn't help but feel the anticipation of the night all over again.

This time he would catch them out, discover Lupin's so called illness and the famous marauders , bully's one and all, would be tossed out of Hogwarts for all the laws they'd broken.

If not for the lives they'd ruined.

he pictured sweet little Reg, with his fine boned Black features, hunched into a ball in the middle of his bed with Slytherin green sheets, holding his knees to his chest and heaving with great ugly sobs. His own brother had locked him into the broom shed by the Quidditch Pitch for almost six hours before he was found, Black had told his brother joining the Snake's team just meant he needed to spend some quality time learning the equipment. 

Reg quit the team the next day.

All the Black sisters had been targets in their time, Frank Longbottom had crossed them, Once even Pandora Ollivander, a sweet lovely girl, after rejecting Pettigrew, had her reputation so ruined by their outlandish pranks she was married off to the dotty Lovegood Heir.

Victims without end. And yet here the stood on Hogwarts grounds, living their own lives utterly carefree. Not a single teacher was anything less than indulgent to them, the headmaster even going so far as to congratulate them on some of the groups showier 'Pranks'.

But tonight, after hearing the brutes discussing the meeting with Lupin and the potential to discover the biggest of their secrets he would finally be able to peel the wool from the eyes of the willfully blind staff.

Finally he turned the last corner of the grey-dirt tunnel and froze in confusion. Lupin was there - alone - but he was nude. His pale flesh even more emaciated in the moonlit shadows. The hollow where stomach met ribs almost cavernous, his thin limbs c ontorted painfully as he lay on his back moaning softly. In those last minutes, before it all fell into place, Severus saw the slashed flash and scarred skin. Flashes of rough  pocked scar tissue to rival his own, some lines still pink others the silver that bespoke great age.

He almost felt a kinship with the man.

But then the scene changed. The timeless moment gone and now the horror began donning. 

The amber eyes opened wide flashing golden, his mouth snapping open. Spittle trailing from the jaws as teeth lengthened. Skin rippled, splitting and dashing blood across the rotted floor and decayed carpet. Bones were contorting and Lupin rolled to his side, a scream ripping from his throat and a sharp snap was heard - his spine had been broken from his convulsions.

As fur rippled from the seams in the flesh of the boy before him, Severus found himself frozen in fear. His body had shut down, terror reigned. In that moment nothing but the primal instinct of all humans controlled him. Deep within himself he was screaming, raging and anguishing to move, move, _ move. _

But he didn't.

And like clock work the dream was over. A rough shove from to the left and shouting, as he was crammed back towards the tunnel entrance jolting him awake.

Awake, Severus lay quietly panting, his bottomless black eyes wide and unseeing. Terror was not something new to him, nor was it the reason for his rage.

Severus no longer feared Lupin, the beast was weak and  sniveling in human form, not even arguing with his own friends when he was uncomfortable with their wild antics. When he was changed into a beast he was caged in the Shrieking Shack, with all the combined intelligence of a nest of flobber worms, if more vicious. 

Severus did not fear Black, the idiot had nothing to use against him, when his most vicious pranks were of the reputation ruining kind, and Severus had no reputation to speak of with his lank hair, sallow skin and mercurial moods, let alone his disgraced half blood status.

He did not fear James Potter and the ridiculous life-debt he owed the _ heroic _ __ bastard, the childish man would no doubt waste it on making Severus his slave for a day, or maybe ensuring his own life at a later date in the war. Nothing to be overly concerned with in that small minded prat.

Severus did not even fear the Headmaster, son-of-a-bitch that he was, who would pat the  Gryffindor monsters on the head and send the to bed with no supper for trying to murder him.

No, Severus _ hated. _

Hatred was a funny thing. For some it was like a forbidden sweet. You indulged infrequently and left well enough alone. Allowing the emotion to control you not at all. 

For others it was a deeper burning. Consuming and controlling all thoughts.

For Severus it was power. He channeled all the wrongs done to him into his work. He brewed illegal potions with unicorn blood and human flesh, he studied the darkest curses with a passion few could ever match. He walked the knife edge of fanaticism for the radical new idea of a war. He used the hatred that had been born into him.

Thought of his father. His mothers death. Black, Lupin and Potter, the merry band of criminals. Evans, abandoning him for a careless comment. The rest of the Slytherin's using him for self advancement, but not caring about him otherwise.

He used the rage to build himself from that life changing terror. Never again would he fall to his knees helpless and hope to be cared for.

And for now he had a goal.

_ Blame the family, Blame the bully _

_ Blame it all on me, maybe he needed to be wanted _

_ Blame the family, Blame the bully _

_ Maybe he needed to be wanted _

"Have you killed for personal gain?" The whiskey deep voice purred.

A vision assailed Severus. A memory of his thin, potion stained hands covered in red. The sticky heat of his fathers blood pouring down onto him, wound gaping and oozing as he plunged the dagger with the Prince family crest on the hilt into his chest. Over and over. Until the bellows of rage stopped and the body turned cool.

Post humous really had suited the abusive muggle filth best.

Severus shuddered and his head jerked in a nod, lank hair flying about. His rough spun robes were in a disarray, milk pale hands curled tightly in the sleeves. His whole body sang with tension.

He wanted his wand. To hold onto the tangible means of all his power, a potions prodigy he may be but any wizard worth their blood knew a wand was true power. He longed for the simple comfort of his ebony wand, smooth in his hand once again.

It had been taken from his hands as he had stepped into the chamber where he was to meet his new lord. 

No one held a wand in their Lords presence. Not that it would matter had he wanted to curse the Dark Lord, his hands shook even now clenched in fists. To be able to stand through his oppressively dark magical aura was accomplishment enough.

He was committed though. His purpose was pure, his ideals righteous. Revolutions were bloody and vicious, that was just the way of things in a place as stagnated as Wizarding Great Britain. And he would be a revolutionary.

No one would scorn his name; no one would remember his filthy muggle father. They would recall the son of House Prince, Potions master, Spell Crafter, Revolutionary. 

Death Eater.

He would rise above his Half-Blood status and be on level with the other Slytherins, even Lucius and his hidebound father  Abraxas said it was so. This would give him what no cunning, or potion skill or  Quidditch match won could ever provide.

And the tall pale man called Voldemort was offering him a lifetime of glory. Lucius had been vague in his descriptions of his soon to be lord, only spouting off how charismatic and wondrous the man was. But it was more than that.

His face was the ice-sculpted beauty of a pureblood aristocrat, sharp lines, hard nose, high brows and broad  feature . His robes were a deep peridot color, silver threads woven throughout to show off the turns of his lithely pacing body. Not to mention the unearthly quality that tingled in the air around the man. 

Altogether the man made him very self-conscious in his second-hand Hogwarts robes and  peeling  house patch.

"Will you kill again?" The purr was almost inhuman now, deep and sibilant like the snakes he surrounded himself with, scaled and otherwise. A vicious light shone out of unnatural red eyes.

"Is their someone you would wish dead my lord?" His voice trembled.

A cold and high laugh fell from the lips of the Dark Lord Voldemort. 

And with a politely phrased query Severus Snape had sold his soul.

_ No one knows her, but tonight the silence is over _

**Author's Note:**

> the song choice is Bully by Three Days Grace, all credit to the band and JK Rowling herself.


End file.
